Flowers For Your Grave
by PhoenixW4Me
Summary: "Murder. Mystery. The macabre. What is it about a hard-boiled detective, a femme fatale and the cold steel of a gun..." "You're not here for justice so why are you here?" "You had options. Better options. More socially-accepted options." "Don't think you know me." "I know who the killer is." Rated for safety. Warning: Not for children!


**Phoenix: Oh my gosh! I feel alive again! First off, I want to apologize for Cerberus's disappearance and that he didn't update that other stories. And secondly, I want to thank all of you out there for being such a loyal fanbase! I could not ask for a better one. You guys kept reading and reviewing my stories for months and I really appreciate that. I love you guys and I promise I will put my best foot forward in updating more often. Again thank you all! Hope you enjoy this start to a multitude of cop-based series. **

**Flowers for Your Grave Part 1**

**PhoenixW4Me**

"Murder. Mystery. The macabre. What is it about a hard-boiled detective, a femme fatale, and the cold steel of a gun that keeps our bedside lamps burning into the wee hours of the morning?" came a deep, sultry voice over the dim-lit open roof-patio of a Domino City bar. The voice's owner had dark hair and eyes that matched the deep tone in his voice. He was sculpted like an Adonis and garbed in a black three-piece suit that made his pale skin look like alabaster. A microphone was attached to his ear, projecting his voice over the roof and inside the bar at the dozens of people who were either grabbing a book from the piles or reading them. A fire-orange cover silhouetted a city much like the one they lived in with a man's shadow falling on the other side, a gun in his hand.

The man glanced to his side and his eye caught hold of a young woman with knee-length white-blue hair and skin just as pale as his own but instead of a black dress, she wore a cocktail dress made of blue silk with pale diamonds over her chest that lead to her stomach, becoming darker as they did.

"However the spell is cast," he said as an obvious distain began to coat his words as the woman began flirting with another man near her. "Tonight we honor the mistress of the form and celebrate the launch of _Storm Fall._" The woman began to giggle as the man began stroking her arm. The man cast another disapproving glance at the woman before taking a deep breath. "The stunning conclusion to her best selling Danielle Storm mystery novels, Ladies and Gentlemen, the Mistress of the Macabre, Kisara Castle." The white-haired woman the man had been glancing at strode up to his side and smiled sweetly as the cameras began to flash, reporters started screaming for her attention and fans held up copies of the book. Her blue eyes became startled for a second as the man wrapped an arm around her hips, drawing her closer to him before going back to neutral.

* * *

The sound of heels echoing down the empty, carpeted hall punctuated the silence of the night. The man making the noise was dressed in a dark blue trench coat, a pair of black slacks and a white button-up shirt and black shoes. On his belt was a black gun next to a gold badge with DCPD etched in blue and the numbers 41319 printed in black underneath it.

Within a few moments he turned in a door with the numbers 217 in gold just over the peephole.

The interior of the apartment was all bleeding-edge in style with a wall of glass overlooking one of the best views of the city. A fine, white leather living room was to his left and in front of him was a stainless-steel kitchen. And in both rooms, police officers were already snapping photos. The officer looked to the right and saw three people standing around the dining room table. The first was a woman with long, somewhat curled blonde hair and amethyst eyes. She was dressed in a violet suit skirt and blazer over a black shirt. She was jotting notes on a pad of paper as she looked over the corpse on the table, a nude woman covered from head to toe in grandiflora roses with sunflowers covering her eyes.

The second was a blonde man with brown eyes talking to the third man who had brown hair and eyes and somewhat darker skin than everyone else assembled. The blonde wore a badge and from his back pocket poked a driver's license with the name "Joseph Wheeler" printed on the top. The other man had his driver's license half sticking out of his jacket pocket, showing Tristan Taylor as his name. The two men noticed the newcomer and stopped their conversation. The man nodded at the two as he looked over at the victim.

"Detective Seto Kaiba, nice to see you again," said the M.E. as she moved, causing her I.D. tag to flash, showing Mai Valentine as her name.

"Just who are you?" he asked to the victim.

"Her name's Alison Tisdale," said Joey. "She's 24 years old, a grad from NYU and was a part of the Social Work program." Seto scanned the rooms again.

"Rather nice place for a social worker," he commented.

"That would be daddy's money at work," said Tristan.

"Her neighbors called to complain about the music. When she didn't respond they called the Super to check on her." Seto nodded.

"No signs of forced entry so he knew her," he commented. Mai smirked.

"He even brought her flowers. Who says romance is dead?" she joked. Seto rolled his eyes.

"I do, every Friday and Saturday night," he muttered.

"Being a little less hostile wouldn't hurt," Mai said, earning a glare from the detective. "I'm just saying."

"So what did he give her besides roses?" he said rather quickly. Mai pushed the tip of her pen under two of the petals, revealing two small holes in the chest.

"Two shots to the chest. Small caliber," Mai reported as she jotted it down. A smirk played over the detective's lips.

"Does this look familiar to anyone?" Seto asked. The other two detectives cocked an eyebrow at the man.

"No," Joey said. "But I'm not the one the one with a thing for freaky ones. Just give me a Jack shot Jill over Bill so I can get my call and go home." Seto's smirk grew as he bent down to see a few petals on the floor.

"But the freaky ones require more. They reveal more," he clarified as he stood up straight again. "Look at how he left her: Covered modestly."

"So?" Tristan asked.

"So, despite all the effort, all of the preparation, you won't find any signs of sexual abuse," Seto answered. Joey raised an eyebrow.

"You get that from all this?" he asked.

"This, plus I've seen this before," Seto said as he stepped away from the victim. The other two detectives stared at him before glancing at each other.

"You've seen it before?" Tristan asked. "Where?" Seto's eyes narrowed at the two.

"Roses on her body, sunflowers on her eyes..." The two detectives looked at each other again. "Honestly, don't you two read?"

* * *

"Has anyone ever seen this

"What kind of dimwit kills off her best-selling character?" asked the dark-haired man as he and Kisara continued smiling for the press.

"Are you asking as my blood-sucking publisher, Damien, or are you asking as my blood-sucking ex-fiancée who walked out on the wedding the night before it happened?" Kisara asked as the cameras were shooed away from the two by security.

"Oh, so you're punishing me? Is that it?" Damien asked. Kisara glared at him as she re-entered the bar, passing a few other people who were sharing cocktails and small talk.

"Well excuse me if I was expecting to be home from a nice Hawaii honeymoon and maybe even pregnant by now. But no, you just had to run off with that new secretary from your office. You had to ruin the wedding we spent months planning and preparing for."

"And then you decided to kill your best-selling character to what? That's still unclear to me."

"But apparently, just like our engagement, you forgot who the real golden goose is here. It's not Danielle," Kisara said as she quickly signed the inside of a book.

"Still, you could've crippled her or retired her or married her to someone or had her join the stinking circus. But no. You have to put a bullet through her head."

"And that's partially because writing Danielle used to be fun, now it's more like work."

"Heaven forbid you do any work," Damien snapped.

"But as I was saying, the golden goose isn't Danielle. It's me," Kisara snapped.

"Oh really? Then why isn't the new book in yet? Because I've been talking with my investors and they suggest that I drop your contract with you," Damien said.

"That's not up to you. You and I were busy prepping a wedding that you ran out on and so I didn't have any time to write. And that huge blow you dealt me might just delay me a bit longer!"

"Oh really? Because I've been talking to a couple of reliable sources and they say otherwise."

"Well, they lied to you," Kisara snapped. Damien smirked.

"No. They're quite reliable. Does the name Amara Rodgers sound familiar?" he said. Kisara spun on her blue satin heel, managing to hit Damien in the face with her hair as she headed towards the actual bar where an older woman with fading brown hair and bright green eyes stood talking to a young girl who couldn't be older than fifteen with brown hair and hazel-green eyes. Both were dressed just as elegantly as Kisara but the younger wore long sleeves while the over had a deep V-neck. The younger had a green dress while the other wore a bright orange one. The younger was bent over a textbook as the other was bending over the bar, trying to get a drink from the bartender.

"Kisara dear!" the older woman said as she wrapped her arms around Kisara's shoulders. "Sales must be down, they're only serving the soft stuff!

"Grandmother, did you tell my ex-fiancée that I hadn't written anything?" The older woman, Amara, shook her head and her hand quickly.

"Keep your voice down, I'm still looking for anyone available," Amara said quickly as she looked around.

"I might've mentioned in passing that ever since I moved in all you've really been doing is sit around, sometimes nibbling on a snack while watching TV," she said. Kisara's eyes hardened.

"I thought we had a deal, you live with us and in exchange, you don't tell anybody about my work especially not Damien, my ex-fiancée."

"What's to talk about?" Amara asked. "You haven't done any since I moved in."

"Grandma!" the teen whispered, earning a chuckle from Amara.

"What? She hasn't."

"Whatever I have or haven't done, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't share it with my ex-fiancée," Kisara defended. But Amara glanced past her and grinned.

"One moment sweetie, I just got a hit on my Greydar...Bingo no ring!" Kisara spun around to try and see who her grandmother was talking about but Amara made her look back at her. "You stay back here with Mana while Mamma goes fishing." The two girls watched Amara vanish into the crowd.

Kisara sighed and placed a hand on the bar while also massaging a growing headache.

"Remind me why I let you convince me to let her live with us," Kisara begged. Mana smiled.

"I think it's sweet."

"It won't be so sweet when I strangle her," Kisara insisted.

"Won't that be an adventure," Mana said, sarcasm practically dripping from her words.

"Life _should _be an adventure," Kisara said. "You want to know why I killed Danielle?"

"To get back at the sleezball who humiliated you?" Mana asked.

"It was because there were no surprises anymore. I knew exactly what was going to happen every second of every page. It's like these parties. 'I'm your biggest fan' and 'Where do you get all of your ideas?' can get very old very quickly. For once I want something new and interesting."

"Kisara Castle?" Kisara put on a smile as she turned around, pulling a pen from Mana's bag.

"Yes?" Her words faltered at the sight of the tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed detective who now held his badge up.

"Detective Seto Kaiba of DCPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that happened earlier this evening," he said. Kisara's eyes widened as Mana reached for her pen.

"That's new," she whispered.

* * *

**Phoenix: Ah, this feels fantastic! Oh if I could put words to it I would! I have been gone for far too long! I love you guys and please leave a nice little review in the box below so I can feel a little better about my return from the grave?**


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